


Saudade

by doorwaytoparadise



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Post-Zurich angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4791350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doorwaytoparadise/pseuds/doorwaytoparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>saudade: n.  a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saudade

**Author's Note:**

> I tried writing in second person, as I've never done so before, as a sort of writing exercise for myself, so here, some Post-Zurich angst

You remember warmth.

You remember warmth and skin against skin, arms loosely draped across your shoulders.

You remember the warmth of shared space and shared breaths, gentle touches, soft laughter, softer kisses. You remember, too, the heat. The pounding of your heart, skin slick with sweat, primitive need thrumming through the air. There is a hand in your hair, pulling at the strands, a mouth at your throat, a body pressed against yours, and the room feels like suffocation and liberation all at once.

Teeth sink into your skin and bring everything into a sudden sharp focus. You feel his curls slide between your fingers like silk, ginger and bright, fire spun into thread. You can feel every breath he puffs out against your chest, and your heart beats like thunder in your ears. Hyper-awareness takes over your senses. Smell ( _faint traces of citrus and coffee_ ), sound ( _small cries, breathless exclamations, rustling sheets, and please god yes-_ ), taste ( _his mouth is sweet, his skin is too_ ), touch ( _fingertips tracing patterns, gripping hands, you take him inside you_ ) and sight ( _ecstasy on his face, silently mouthing your name_ ). That one precious night is burned into your memory, and you hold it close like a drowning man.

You can still feel the ghost of his hands, hear his voice, and you see him in the corner of your eye and on the street. His absence haunts you, and you wonder at how one man could have such an impact.

His smile is the sun and for all you teased him about being Icarus, you’re the one who’s flown too close and burned in the brightness, plummeting down and down and down to drown beneath the waves. He’s gone, left you behind, and you are undone.

You become accustomed to the emptiness beside you, the gaping void he has left in your life. You try and recover, recollect the pieces of your old armor, but the arrogance no longer fits and the snark is hard to dredge back up. The warmth has vanished, dragged in his wake, and you try and recall how to sleep alone again.

Your heart pounds steady beneath your ribs, and some part of you is honestly surprised it’s even still working at all.


End file.
